THE MYSTERY OF LEA FARM.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2168, 30 July 1897, Page 4

THE MYSTERY OF LEA FARM.

Iflha ttri.ljiv>r. called the Boss 'Tec. *r»* baflfcxl. and. being baffled, was out «C hanw with the world iu general aiul *ifh the village of Oldby in particular. The crime he was investigating was tea ordinary to allow of one of those miraculous flashes of Insight for which be was so famous; in tact, had he not been longing for country air after his close application to the noted Van girard-Vnunes rase, he would have turned the Oldby murder »w to a confrere. This murder had uo lurid background, no picturesque touches, aud vet it baffled bint. The hal.s •- ' te scUeu u> Uiui was *hls: A uwa-a Frenchman. Atphonse d'Hssthu by uatue—had come to OWhy. on a vfe& to> t»r, Swtkv These two had n»e? at W>y tile previous rear, and had chnnnwea WW N&iards a.ud cigars. No **e»tt frteij..fe*Mp> fcftdl ripettett and wt white M,<*trn»bu S»d wrtttca rr*»ui '■■■■- A«* to «av. -5c wvttW i-vv toe great |*fc**i*ee tv see .w«tt J>efAvre I return to BVis..'' tftet&tt Sewfe brtd cordially rvPtted?: "Vw*»e dvwu \-r a JUv or two and *o.' *m»# i; st"ve :«v >i.v cvxeßKy ."■" k* v - lost Che sfiWfcftfee acvfcvvd .t- Wednesday Oy • !>.' tit."; t..;v(*.-i.>w.-l strwt: at <"> that dttttw Hmtw'wz Vr. Settle received a:t »r?i'.*iji. sntmnoos tw tea. j';irm. about ZW't mles :rvay V. dtiiutbu. left itlinu:, and sMtttivced fort!* into the garden, tnd i.:-'nu ebvuee Into t--e laue that Sfeft&s IK' i».v<-vr's garden and the reewry sjwttthij*—the Rick uuie it is locally :iied. -V UrtUrO t/artawvrk. picturesquely et»»v tiv»i >y >;im tod wild cherry trees, must lavv attracted M. cTUimbu. for he had. ««ttferatry climbed the sryle halfway down the lane, and crossed the "Brtrisa Field" to the knoll. There he was round 3> minntes later by Arthnr Whitcroft. a lad of IT or thereabouts, stabbed to the bean. An inquest had. of course, been held. when the inevitable tramp theory was mooted. A beetle-browed fellow liad l>een seen loafing about that day. But the coroner had dismissed this theory at once.

"A tramp," he remarked parenthetically, "may mutter imprecations when •ent away empty-handed, but he does not run amuck like a Malay fanatic." The station-master was called. "Had the (5.20 train set down any passengers?" "Yes; one." •AVho?" "The rector." There was a slight sensation here, for if the rector had taken his usual short cut across the British Field he must have reached the knoll at 6.2o—the very lime of the murder. The rector—Mr Guyhirn—was the next witness: he had seen nothing—absolutely nothing. He had walked home pondering over an address to the farm lads, and had looked neither to the right hand nor to the left. Upon reaching the rectory he had gone Straight to his study, and had there and then made notes of his thoughts. He spoke straightforwardly, and his parishioners believed him—they had never known him either say or do anything underhand, and they respected him for his happy blending of sympathy, common sense and humor. A parlor-maid confirmed his statement about writing in the study: she had taken him in a cup of tea. and had not noticed that he was at all "flustered." There was nothing for it but to bring in a verdict of "murder against some person or persons unknown"—a verdict at which «ddby chafed. Was a murderer to run free and unpunished in their midst? In the course of days trivialities leaked out. and these taken together could no longer be regarded as mere nothings. For two months a Marjorie Marchden had been a guest at the rectory—it was. in fact, to be her home until the return Of Mr Marchden from Ceylou. where he had a coffee plantation. On the evening of the murder Jane. the cook, had seen Miss Marchden "just fly up stairs as scared like as a crow jwith a rattle behind it." Then Susan, the housemaid, testified With many tears that a dagger—a queer, foreign-sticking thing—had disappeared from Miss Marjorie's room, where it had always hung on a nail. •And to the whole village it was apparent that the hitherto energetic, bright, and bonny girl had suddenly become pale and dejected. '•They say as they know the murderer." exclaimed Dr. Settle's housekeeper, as she bustled an omelette down before him. "Eat it while it's hot. sirit's prime this minute; although, as I Said to Green, I'll never believe it of a fine, liandsome young lady like Miss Marchden." "What!" asked the young, doctor, jumping up so suddenly that the break-fast-:ab> daneed a jig aud the omelette Slipped from ibe dish. "It's took hiin ii; .iv aback than Mr Dimby's death itself, and he feels that bad enough." said Mrs Green, who was a shrewd woman. She was right. That Marjorie should be suspected caused him more exquisite pain than did

the murder of M. d'Himbu. "I'd give my practice to clear her." be moaned; and suiting the action to the word he took out a telegraph form and dashed off a request for lions "fee's aid. John Bridget - bad heard the story, had seen the spot, and was baffled. That murder had l)eeu done was l>eyond question; the position of the wound did away with the possibility of suicide: but what was the motive? The rector had crossed the field at the hour of the murder, but he was beyond suspicion: although, as Boss 'Tec thought, "sometimes irreproachable middle age lias the background of a shady past:" but one piece of evidence alone diverted suspicion from Mr Guyhini—he had never been abroad and M. d'Himbu had never before ln-en in England. As for Miss Marebden—well, her past history must be traced, and already a trusty clerk was on his way to Brussels, where Marjorie hud been to school, but from the little he learned about her disposition, character and tastes, slur did not seem likely to be the doer of the deed.

Boss Tec held ;i map of Oldby in his band, and as he studied it an idea dawned iu his ndnd. He Blapped one kuee and exclaimed "He!" he slapped the other and •exclaimed '"Ha!" And this to bis colleagues woidd have been it signal that hi* great brain was beginning to work at a theoryDid Dr. Settle jro by the road to Lea farm, or did he ride, taking the shorter bridle patbV If the latter, then he. too. might be iu the British Field at the time of the murder. He and M. d'Hlmbu had played together: nay. more: there had l>ceu a suggestion of -revenge for a lost game!" Doubtless it was a question of money. The fact that the dot-tor bad himself sent for an investigator went for nothing: the doing so might simply be a repetition of the blind used by Captain Mekly iu tl;e Gat's Eye robbery. Alonev. then, was the motive for the

Oldby murder, and from the well-head of this motive John Bridger deemed it would be easy to track the murderer.

Whistling contentedly, he looked from the window, and seeing Arthur Whitcroft driving some bullocks from the street into Back Lane, strolled forth to join him. "Prime beasts." he remarked, by way of greeting. "Ay. sir." replied the lad. with the enstomory brevity of the English villager. "Makes me feel young again: takes me back UO years: and it's good for a man to step back sometimes." he said to the boy. who began to take a liking to l>~. Settle's fresh visitor. My father had a farm in the North, rig!*: up in the titles, and 1 and my brother Jinl used to drive our cows to pasture down by the l*vk. ami there we would lie about for hours, watching the water ousels and the kingfisher*, aud fishing for r.aytish and newts. 1 shirpenod my jMwer of observation down by that stream." he continued. \vi:h ;•• sig'- of seutlmeutalreiueiubrauec, at the same time switching a lagging bullvk with an adroitness that won his eo4U»wu:ou*s admiration. "Lea farm vou'Vo soiug u\ aren't you? Ah, no! of course not: 1 know you live at the Hollow. Hut let me see: how long will it take me to walk over to Lea':" -By the bridle path, 12 minutes. -The brlule path! 1 suppose most r'olks c«> that way*" "Yos. sir. 'cept iu mucky weather: then they takes the road." "Ah. well. It's not mucky weather •j.ow. The Lea people must tiud a uieo step saved when they can come to church that 'gainer' cut." "Yes: and it's handy-like for the doetor now that the missus is bad." "Ah!" said Boss "Tec. softly. "It is swampy here." he continued, as they passed the stile tliat leads into British Field. "Kingcups and milkmaids grow here in May. don't they?" "Ay. yes. aud frogs, too."

••Not the pbu-e for a patent-shod Frenchman to limb over." united the detectlve, "uuless he happened to meet a friend who knew the way. I'll have another look at the knoll:" and nodding farewell to the tad he crossed into the dow noted field. A few paces brought him to the spot where poor M. d'Himbu had been found. A crushed cluster of poppies showed the exact place where the body had fallen. The setting sun glisteued on something bright that lav beside the poppies. Mr Bridget' stooped aud picked this something up. It was :i string of five minute jet beads. •Tart of a fringe." muttered Boss 'Tee, whose keen eye noted even the frivols displayed by Jay and Feter Bobinson. Five vards further on. nearer to the tiny thatched British cottage that stood off' from the path, there lay auother string—one of three beads only. "Hum!" said the detective, "hum!" Lqss than this has hanged a man. Tbey mav have come off the dress of some Sunday sightseer: but I'll keep them, all the same." "Good evening. You're making the most of your time." This to a whitecapped oid dame who sat knitting within the rose-bowered porch of a British cottage. "Ay. sir; days is never too long for willing fingers." "And I dare say you are a bit lonely living here all alone." "Why. sir, as for that I've my thoughts, and thoughts is grand companions. And the ladies from the rectory most ways give me a look—one or the other. Miss Marchden. she's been here hours lately, for she's a-doing of my picter." And with a sign of invitation she entered the cottage and took down a block. It w:ls a wonderful bit of water color drawiug. and reminded Mr Bridget' of Cooper's "Nancy Macintosh." He prided himself on knowing something of art.

"All! Comes often, does she?" "Yes. sir; and glad I am to see her. The last time was on the eveuing the poor French gentleman was killed. Eh. sir! It's sad I am to think he was so near—just behind the mound—and I never heard his cry for help. Going in ray eighty-six though I be. I'd have doue snmmut for him." "Was Miss Marchden here at the time?" "No, sir. Let me think. She left ten minutes—yes. it must have been about ten minutes—before."

"Ah!" "And if she isn't here now!" exclaimed the old woman, with a look of genuine gladness. John Bridger turned and came face to face with Miss Marchden. She wore a black cloth cape trimmed with jet fringe. There was a break in the fringe close to the right shoulder. "Ah!" once again ejaculated Boss Tec.

"Well?" queried the doctor thai even ing. It was his usual alter-uinuei question, ami hitherto Mr Bridget' hue replied by a shake or the bead. To night, however, he paused, and Dr Settle, noticing the pause, looked \\\ quickly—anxiously. "Anv clue?" "Yes."

"Not—not— You cau't suspect her!" said the young man. vehemently, thus betraying his fears. "My dear fellow. I'm here to suspect anybody and everybody—even you." The expression of his host's face assured the detective that he was guiltless of the slaying of M. d'Himbu. He could no longer hold the theory he started from—the motive of money. "But don't be over-troubled. Of course the whole thing is a trouble, but still, much has to be proved yet: much may have to be unproved. Light may come with to-morrow's post. Mrs Bridgetis working like a sleuth-hound in Paris. I believe you know my wife is a French woman: she was guverness at Liinby Abbey, and I met her when I went down there*about the poisoning of bis lordship's mare. Warpaint. She's taken to the 'tec business like a duck to water, and always helps me in my foreign work: in fact, it was really my wife who ferreted out the first clue in the Vau-girard-Yaunes affair. I believe in a woman helping her husband even in the roughest profession. By the by. what is Mrs Guyhiru like? I've met the rector again and again, but she always seems invisible."

"Mrs Uuybirn? Well. I hardly kuow She wears'her hair parted down the middle, and buys her next summer clothes at the autumn sales: at least, so —so Miss%larchden says. But I believe she's a good mother and a good parish worker. The morning's post brought the hoped for light. From Brussels there was a brief note : ••The school is near tin- Pan- Leopold: very quiet and well-conducted. Miss M. was liked by all. there is no escapade or hers to record—her hobby was painting." From Paris the missive was bulkier: "M. d'Himbtl seems to have been simply a flaneur, whose sole aim was to be ! ires chic. His brother cannot account ! for the murder: says Alphonse was noi a man to quarrel, and thinks the niotivi must have been highway robbery. M Henri allowed me to appropriate his brother's album, this I send to you. Xo

tice the girl in the Gainsbro' hat : you will see her repeated in many styles. I fancy she is an Englishwoman. Is she Miss M.?" Xo. certainly not ; she was too fair, too slight, too arch. John Bridger looked at her again and again, for his professional acumen detected that this girl had entered largely into M. d'Himbus

life. '•The policeman." said Mrs Green, interrupting his study of the album. Boss 'Tec turned, to see in the mans hand it foreign dagger, half Covered by congealed blood. -Found on the top of the pollard willow that flanks the rectory front gate—evidently fluug there by some person entering the gronuds that way. Sworn to by Susan Jones as being the dagger formerly in I lie possession or Marjorie Crawford Marchdeu." So spoke the constable in his most professional manner and voice. "Shall I arrest Miss Mnrchden. sir?'' lie continued, as Boss 'Tec stood silently regarding the weapon. "It's clear, circumstantial evidence, sir." "Have you seen her?" "I've confronted her with the dagger. but all she says is: 'I didn't put it on the pollard' otherwise, she's as dumb as a bell;" the Oldby policeman was noted for the vagueness of his similes. "The motive?" inquire! Mr Bridger, looking up suddenly. "The motive will ooze out at the trial, sir. Motives are like rats In a hole: they flashes out when you least, expect 'em. Shall I get a warrant for her arrest?" "Wait. I will see her myself. Come to me later."

"The flight upstairs—the dagger—the jet beads- the evident bearing of a painful secret," murmured John Bridger: "clear circumstantial evidence, truly! The beueh would bring iu a verdict of guilty at once; and yet I don't believe Miss Marchdeu did it! That girl in the Gainsbro' is at the bottom of it. or I'm not Boss 'Tec Question Is—is she in or near Oldby? Ha—yes, I'll see the rector's wife: she may throw some light on the Gtiinsbro's whereabouts." "Yes, Mrs Guyhirn's at home," answered the rectory maid, ushering Mr Bridger into the morning room. Mrs Guyhirn was seated on a low chair, her youngest child cradled on her lap, another was at her feet, folding kindergarten papers. An admiral butterfly sailed into the room, the second child darted after it with a whoop. Mrs Guyhirn laughed at its vain efforts, and as the light of laughter .rose to her eyes Boss 'Tec "I wish to speak with you about this unfortunate affair. Perhaps, madam, as the intimate friend of Miss Marchden, vou may help me a little. But I find I have left a paper I require in my room. Will you excuse me one moment? I will fetch it and return." "Certainly." replied Mrs Guyhirn, still watching the butterfly hunt. "He !" said John Bridger. slapping one knee. "Ha!" slapping the other. "No doubt as to the motive now. A clever woman is my Bertrade. At least this case interests me-it reaches bevond Oldby." Vrrived ar the doctor's he took out M. d'Himbu's album and turned to "the girl in the Gainsbro' hat." "Tamed—wrecked !" he ejaculated. "Venus turned Madonna, but I know I'm not mistaken." Slipping the photograph out of the album, he retraced his steps. "Is Mrs Guyhirn still in the morning room?"

"Yes. sir." Mrs Guyhirn had dismissed her children, and was apparently awaiting Mr Bridger's return. "Madam." he inquired, closing the door and drawing the portrait from his pocket, "do you know this'.'" Half an hour later he hastily entered Dr Settle's surgery. . "Doctor, you are wanted at the rectory. Rush' of blood to the head caused by* shock." Then lie added, after a pause—"And pray to God that for once your remedies may fail." "I may tell the whole story to you. too." Boss 'Tec said that evening, as he sat in the clematis-hung arbor with the doctor and the policeman. "It's a pathetic bit of life-history—besides, it's interesting to us"—looking with a frown on the policeman—" because it shows how one ought to shy at mere circumstantial evidence. Motive's the thing—without motive a 'toe hasn't a leg to stand on.'" Boss 'Tec knocked the ashes out of his pipe and began as though he were reading from a book: "Twelve years ago a retired colonel haunted Monte Carlo. He was a widower, and he and his daughter lived a happy-go-lucky Bohemian life. "She was pretty in a certain waypetite and fair, and with a sparkle gained from a Corsican grandmother. She had always a small court, composed of men of mixed natioualities.and when her fa 1 her had a run of luck she bought new frocks aud gave picnics. <>:h> of her uicsi pevKisreni admirers was M. d'Himbu. but she cared Utile for him. One evening the colonel forsook the tallies for baccarat; he lost two thousand to M. d'Himbu, and still the mad frenzy of play was upon him. " 1 have nothing left to stake.' lie lamented.

"'Yes.' whispered M. d'Himbu: "the highest stake of all—your daughter!' "When the lust of play cooled, the colonel knew what he had done. " Next, morning his daughter found him on the shore, his right hand grasping a pistol, the wound in his temple laved by the calm waves of the Mediterranean. "Revenge was the emotion that swayed her as she stood over her father's dead body. You will remember 1 told von that Corsican blood ran in her veins, and that the vendetta hud I<> her forbears been a binding obligation. " 'Neither me nor my money shall M. d'Himbu see again." was her cry. "As soon as possible the colonel's daughter left for England, to find a home with her mother's brother, old Admiral Jones. Life with him was as unlike the bright, gay Monte Carlo life as it was ]M»ssil)le to be. She stepped at once into an atmosphere of Puritanism. She sang at open air meetings, she. played the harmonium in the Sailor's Bethel, she signed the pledge, and Joined the Anti-Gambling League. And in this calmer air she. forgot vengeance; she remembered M. d'Himbu only as one remembers a bad nightmare.

"Mr Giiyhiru, being in town for the May gatherings, was fascinated by her zeal and intense energy, and. as sin- romarkfd parenthetically this afternoon: 'He stood on the opposite pole to M. d'Himbu: he had never even seen a croupier: and so I accepted him.'" "She undertook the duties of a vicar s wife, and fulfilled them. As was natural, there came days when she craved for the brightness and freedom of other years; days when her Bohemianism asserted itself -a Bohemianism her studious, matter-of-face husband could not. comprehend. And thus it came about that she learned self-repression: she simulated that which he would have her be: she acted her part." "Over-acted it." remarked Dr Settle. "And so her spirit was damned in. to burst forth with greater force when her self-repression was for once forgotten. By one of the strangest decrees of fate M. d'Hlmbu came to oldby. and learned

that the rector's wife was none other than his old love." "Some diablerie moved him to send this note to Mrs Guyhirn," continued Boss 'Tec, taking it from his pocketbook and reading : *' 'Your father died owing me you and L 2000; meet me by your garden at 6.15, and oav me one or the other.' " 'ALPHOXSE.'" "Who took that there note?" denmnded the policeman. "Raft Tom. who probably thought more of the (sixpence- than of the errand."

"The Corslean blood leaped up. old memories maddened her : she seized Miss Marchdeu's dagger, and—as luck would have it—ber cape, which was banging in the hall, and rushed forth to meet the man who embodied all the evil of the past. As she reached the knoll she saw her husband on the fieldpoth : she knew she loved him and hated M. d'Himbu, and In her wrath she struck—once—twice. 'For my children's, for my husband's sake. I kept silence." she said, 'but I would not have let Marjorie suffer.'" "And Miss Marchdeu knew?"

"She suspected. She saw Mrs Guyhirn (ling the dagger on the pollard, but would not betray her friend." "It's an uncommon story." continued Mr Bridger. "and if it hadn't been for my Bertrade might never have been known. 1 knew she didn't send that album without clue cause. She's the 'tec. not I."—"OasscH's."